


Burning Inside

by rael_ellan



Category: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children
Genre: Humour, M/M, Sometimes he's actually right, Suspicious Reno, just trust Reno's instincts, mild Reno/Rufus doesn't have to be seen that way, some violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-23
Updated: 2012-07-23
Packaged: 2017-11-10 13:54:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/467045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rael_ellan/pseuds/rael_ellan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After witnessing a seemingly intimate moment between Tseng and Rufus, Reno is strangely upset. But with a sinister plot surrounding the President, Reno must act first think later, with strange consequences for all involved...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Discovery

**Author's Note:**

> I found this sitting on my hard drive and decided to put it out there. Can't harm right?   
> Please review and let me know what you think. It's much appreciated.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning...

_His throat was on fire. It burned as they yanked his head back by the hair and forced the dark liquid down it. He coughed and choked, but they wouldn't let him spit it out. He felt it slide down inside him, wet and slimy and burning. Then they left him wearing identical grins._

_He wanted to die._

\----------

Reno found himself wandering, directionless, around Healin Lodge. His hands were in his pockets and his suit was covered in dust. He had just returned from his latest mission – only a reconnaissance, nothing important. He should have been resting, but for some reason he felt unbearably restless.

For nearly two hours he had lain there, in the dark comfort of his room, staring at the blank ceiling, the colourless walls, the monotone door. Sleep evaded him. His system was on alert, probably still coming down from the adrenalin of the chase through Midgar, as his subject had attempted to evade him. Yes, that was all it was.

So he had pulled his uniform back on and gone for a walk, hoping the familiar action would calm his nerves.

It had been raining. Large, fat drops fell from the green leaves that surrounded the Lodge and disappeared into the ground.

The world always seemed that much more vibrant after rain. Being born in the slums, Reno hadn't seen real rain until his induction into the Turks. He had come to love the strange, temperamental weather. It was one of the many things that singled him out from the others, he thought miserably.

Elena and Tseng hated the rain. It was cold and damp and made their clothes stick to them. Rude didn't really care about it, so long as it didn't completely cloud his shades. But Rufus, oh Rufus.

When they had to go out in the rain, Rufus would complain and whine about the feel of his sodden clothes. He would complain about his hair and the way it flattened uncomfortably against his skull. He would complain about the way it coloured his white clothes. At least, he did when Reno was on guard duty. Only then. Those tirades were not even shared with Tseng. Reno snickered as he thought of Rufus whining like a five-year-old to the cold, untouchable director.

He stopped laughing as he wandered past Rufus' rooms, grinning at the two guards who stood there in as unnerving a fashion as he could muster. Their identical, wide-eyed and shocked stare had him half running around the corner, crouching beneath a window and desperately trying to stifle his sniggers. Lore and Lare they were called. They were new enough that they hadn't quite become acclimatised to his twisted sense of humour and teasing them was one of his favourite past times, when not on duty.

Just as his mirth began to subside, he heard a muffled cry of anger. Recognising Tseng's tone from inside the room, he stiffened, ready to spring to action at a word from his superior. But no order came. Instead, Tseng's tone softened almost instantly and lowered so that Reno could barely hear him.

"If that is your only concern, I can assure you that we will keep a close watch and ensure that –"

"You are not listening Tseng!"

Reno jumped as Rufus' angry voice sliced through the air. There was a soft crash from inside, as his fist collided with the table.

"I am listening, sir. But I fail to see what else can be done to assuage you."

Tseng was using the resigned tone of a man well accustomed to dealing with the sometimes changeable temperaments of the Shinra family.

There was a soft, breathy sound, which Reno took as Rufus' sigh of apology.

"I apologise, Tseng. Yes, that is a logical solution. Of course."

His voice was slightly muffled, as though hidden in his hands.

His curiosity now peaked, Reno slowly began to lift himself from the crouch, glancing through the window. The sight made him freeze.

Rufus was sitting at the table, surrounded by mounds of disturbed paperwork. Documents had floated to the floor around his feet, giving the distinct impression of a snowstorm. Head in his hands, Rufus fingers were buried in his unusually disordered hair. He was breathing deeply, trying to bring order to the chaos of his temperament.

Now, considering the recent development and cure of his geostigma, this was not an unusual position for Rufus. It was Tseng that made him freeze.

The Director was standing almost directly behind the President, one hand resting comfortingly on the younger man's shoulder. His face was as rigidly set as always, but there was a softness to his features that betrayed his relaxed state. Reno had never before seen him look like that. If he didn't know better, he might even say that Tseng looked… happy?

As he watched, Rufus sighed and glanced back at the older man, smiling gently in thanks. They paused there for a moment: speaking, discussing with only their eyes.

Reno felt like an intruder as he watched the intimate scene. A scene, he thought dismally, that would never be his.

He felt a stab of pain somewhere in his chest and sank to the ground beneath the window, pointedly ignoring the feeling of betrayal that thrilled through him. He had no right to feel it, after all. None at all, he reminded himself.

He liked to think of himself as Rufus' confidant. Whenever the man wanted to complain about this businessman or that 'infernal, flirtatious slut!', Rufus spoke to Reno. The red-head had never really considered that he might confide in others. He had certainly never seen the President do so before and he had never heard any of his co-workers discuss it. But then, he never discussed it either. It felt as though there was an unwritten law, that whenever Rufus whined and complained about his bad luck, his good luck, Reno never spoke of it to anyone else. He wondered if the other man had a similar arrangement with each of his Turks and the hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach intensified. Again, he ignored it.

From inside the room, he heard the scraping sound of a chair moving, presumably as Rufus stood up.

Unwilling to be caught in his current position, the redhead picked himself up and slunk away, back to his small room on the far side of the building. He leapt on the bed without bothering to get under the covers or even to get undressed.

Lying on his back, his gaze wandered automatically to the ceiling, which greeted him coldly. The hollow pit in his belly had subsided to a dull persistent ache.

Frowning at the ceiling, he turned onto his side and tried to forget what he had seen. Closing his eyes, he willed sleep to come and to his relief, he sank quietly into oblivion.


	2. Boredom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Reno's boredom gets him into trouble.

_First he's on fire, then he's frozen. The world is swimming before his dazed eyes and his shoulder throbs. He can't feel his legs anymore, after sitting there for so long. However long it was. He shivers._

_The darkness shifts behind him, and the world is on fire again._

\----------

Reno was _bored._

He had given his report as expected, careful not to let the ever-watchful Director realise that he had been beneath the window last night. He had felt nervous as he stepped into the office, something that was quelled almost immediately by the scornful look in Tseng's eyes as he waved the written report at his subordinate.

"Reno, what exactly is this supposed to be?"

"A report, sir."

The expected reply; their usual game.

"Reports are supposed to be written in a way that can be read by other people, Reno. This," he brandished the paper again, "is illegible."

But, as usual, Tseng had shaken his head and dismissed him with a resigned sigh and a pained expression, and Reno had wandered out of the office to sit behind his own desk.

Rufus never complains about my handwriting. I wonder if they ever argue about that. Maybe its' Rufus who puts him on my case… Reno grinned at the direction of his own thoughts. Who the hell am I kidding? Rufus couldn't care less if I wrote the things in ketchup on the back of a napkin so long as I didn't mess up the job!

On the opposite side of the room, Rude was studiously filling out sheet after sheet of his mission report. The perfect lines seemed to flow seamlessly from the tip of his pen. Reno glared at the top of the shiny baldhead, and leant back on his chair, waiting for the bigger man to notice the stare.

The silence continued, broken only by the incessant scratch of Rude's pen moving across the paper. Disappointed with the lack of response, the redhead started searching the room for something else to do. He noticed that there was a small pile of paper in a tray marked 'IN' on the corner of his desk and picked up the foremost sheet.

The headline of a newspaper had been stuck onto the top of the sheet, reading: 'Shinra's New Direction.' Underneath this, in Elena's large print handwriting, were the words, 'Facing away from you, Reno.'

Reno grinned and slipped the paper into the draw in his desk, adding to the growing pile of assorted objects that compiled his mini-war with Elena. Initially, it had genuinely been about trying to irritate and even undermine one another, but it had long since become a contest of wit. Reno wouldn't admit it, but he was touched that the blonde woman had kept up with it. He always kept the little 'hate' notes she sent him, purely on the basis of remembering what his reason was for playing pranks on her, of course.

Picking up the next sheet, he saw it was another of Tseng's reassignment sheets. Tseng liked to rearrange their schedules on a regular basis, so that there would always be a guard with the President, despite their missions. Recently, the Director had taken to changing the shifts every two weeks.

Completely paranoid, he thought.

He felt his mouth attempt to curl into an affable grin and stifled it. He was in no mood to think affectionately of his boss.

Well aware of the fact that Tseng would most likely have altered the roster yet again by the end of the day, Reno scrunched the paper into a ball. Upending his empty mug of coffee, he tried to balance the ball on its base. It rolled off. Frowning, he tried again. It rolled off.

There was a soft sound across the room, as though someone was trying not to laugh. Reno glanced up at his partner and saw that the bigger man was staring pointedly down at the page in front of him. His lips had curled up into a smile, and one hand was resting on his forehead. His broad shoulders were twitching ever so slightly.

A slow smile spread across Reno's fox face and, taking careful aim, he threw the ball of paper at Rude with a shocking accuracy. It collided with the other man's bald skull and bounced onto the desk.

There was a momentary pause, as though everything had frozen. Rude slowly leant back in his chair, laying the pen carefully down by his report. He adjusted it, scrupulously, so that both objects were in exact line with his desk. Then, he squared his shoulders, as though preparing to fight. Across the room, he could see Reno's lithe form tense, ready to spring away at a moments notice. Rude didn't give him the chance.

Without lifting the ball, he hit it back towards his partner with the palm of his broad hand. Reno pushed his chair back, underestimated the path of the projectile, and it collided neatly with his ear.

A brief, but intense, paper fight ensued. Reno added several more balls to the mix and soon there were countless paper missiles flying through the air. It was a fierce, frantic exchange that created chaos throughout the room. Round paper snowballs lay across their desks, covered the floor, and had even managed to find lodging on the leaves of Elena's potted plant.

Eventually, however, the silent game of warfare was stopped by the act of a single sheet of paper. Glancing up and seeing it looming suddenly huge before his face, Reno made a wild bat at it and sent it spinning away from their field of play. It sailed effortlessly through the air, over Elena's desk, and through the half open door of Tseng's office at the end of the room.

The competitors paused, staring at the door.

Nothing happened.

Reno laughed nervously and gave his partner a thumbs up.

"5 gil says he don't even notice it, yo."

Rude grinned, pushing his glasses back into place. They had slipped down it seemed, sometime after the first few shots. He pretended to think for a moment, as though about to bet his life savings, but was saved from having to answer by the interruption of another voice.

"Reno. I'd like to see you in my office."

Tseng's disembodied command floated through the office from the small speaker on Reno's desk. He flexed his fingers, giving it a slightly suspicious look.

"Oh come on. It's just a bit of paper. How mad can he get over it?"

Rude grunted in reply and settled himself back behind his desk.

"He sounds quite calm."

Reno shuddered.

"Yeah. That's the part I'm worried about." He glanced at the other man sharply. "Hey, I wasn't supposed to be doin' anythin' this morning, was I?"

Rude frowned.

"Not that I can think of. Why?"

"Reno, now!"

This time, Tseng's voice came from the half open door.

Rude gestured with his pen.

"If he kills you, can I have your car?"

Already slinking over towards the Director's office, Reno paused to turn and scowl at his partner. He pulled his keys out of his pocket and waved them so they clanged together noisily.

"Not a chance in hell, buddy."

"Reno!"

Slipping the keys back into his pocket, the redhead kicked a few paper bullets out of his way as he passed, and stepped into the office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a filler chapter, really. But I enjoyed writing it.


	3. Assignment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Reno annoys Tseng and is given a new assignment called Erik Dorrigan.

_The world had started spinning again. Around and around went the ceiling. Around and around went the little wall light. Around and around and around… He closed his eyes and tried not to be sick._

_The laughter was back. He so wanted to choke the life from that laugh. How dare it crow at him?_

_He struggled against the restraints and felt one loosen. Yes…_

_The muffled voices were back. They sounded frantic. Yes…_

_A sharp pain appeared in his neck, and darkness crept into the corners of his vision, as the sedative began to take effect._

\--------------

Reno slipped into Tseng's office, trying to look as apologetic as possible.

The Director of the Turks was sitting motionless behind his desk; pen still nestled in one hand. A document was lying in front of him, covered with what appeared to be annotations in Tseng's neat, print handwriting. The writing itself was, however, completely illegible. A large coffee stain was spreading rapidly across the page, swallowing the words and blurring them together.

Beside the sheet of ruined paper stood a mug, coffee still running down its side and over the handle. A ball of paper was perched innocently inside.

"Ah, sorry boss man. Keep sayin' that we need coffee that doesn't stick to ink, yo."

Reno laughed half heartedly and ran a hand through his hair, bringing it into sharper spikes than usual.

Tseng said nothing. He blinked, slowly. One blink, two blinks, three…

Reno shifted uncomfortably under the unfathomable gaze. The other man's face remained carefully neutral, but Reno could see the slight movement of his thumb as it brushed against the smooth casing of the pen.

"You… want some more coffee, boss?"

Tseng sighed and shook his head, glancing away from his subordinate in the process and allowing the man to take what he hoped was an unnoticed breath of relief.

"Tell me," the director murmured, "do you intend to cause as much damage as you do, or is it merely in your nature to do so?"

Reno looked down at the ruined document. He didn't think it was the best time to try and talk his way out of the situation. Tseng was doing that thing where he started to run his fingers over the table in front of him. Arguing now would only get him a fortnight of sentry duty.

Rising slowly from the chair, Tseng looked him up and down, frowning.

"Would it be possible, Reno, for you to wear your suit correctly, just once?" The dark haired man walked over to a stack of drawers and opened one, rooting through folders and files. He pulled one out and flicked through it, gently, so as not to disturb the pages inside too much.

Nodding his approval, Tseng slammed the draw shut and turned to face his subordinate, holding out the file.

"Since you are incapable of keeping yourself occupied with useful work," he shot Reno a meaningful glance that slid down to the remains of his coffee, "you can start your next assignment early."

Reno opened the folder in his hands.

"Erik… Dorrigan?" He looked up questioningly. "Ain't ever heard of him."

Tseng nodded again.

"Unlikely you would have. He lives in the slums."

Reno began to leaf through the sheets.

"Works in a bar?" He frowned. "Hey, I think I know this place. Couple of blocks down from Seventh Heaven. Newly opened, right?"

"Yes."

Reno put the file down on the table, carefully avoiding the coffee stain.

"So what, ya want him dead?"

Tseng's lip twitched slightly, as it always did when he was forcing himself not to smile.

"No. We want you to watch him."

"Watch him? What for? Seems to me ya got all the info ya need on him right there."

Tseng leant against the desk, folding his arms as he did so.

"We think he has potential."

Reno looked at the older man, raising an eyebrow deftly.

"Ya gotta be kiddin' me. Ya want me to scope him for the Turks?" Tseng nodded again. "Nah, nah, boss man. Trust me on this. He ain't Turk material. Couldn't cut it."

"Why not? Because he's from the slums?"

Reno stared at Tseng, trying to decide if his tone was supposed to have sounded teasing. Cold, flat eyes easily met his gaze. It seemed that humour had been the last thing on the Turks mind.

"He just… he's a nice guy, OK? He wouldn't be able to do it."

"What part of it?"

"All of it, boss man. He couldn't do… what has to be done."

Tseng sighed again and moved back to his chair.

"Well, that is for you to decide. You will watch him for the next two weeks. Do not allow yourself to be seen. Do not let him know you are following him. I expect you to prepare a full report with all the evidence you have gathered. And Reno," he glanced back up at the redhead, now leaning on his desk. "I want it to be fair."

Reno growled, deep in his throat and folded his arms. He knew it made him look childish, but old habits did die hard.

"You have your assignment. Go."

He was out of the door before Tseng finished speaking.


End file.
